"A photograph is not only an image (as a painting is an image), an interpretation of the real; it is also a trace, something directly stencilled off the real, like a footprint or a death mask."
Susan Sontag (1933- ); in New York Review of Books 23June, 1977
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The Dying Day
The Sun may set and the day may turn in leaving all in the
dark realm of Night. But the cinders are too powerful to get doused instantly.
The Mighty Sun would leave His Burning traces all over for the lowly
living—though may not be visible—that would impress the soul in a way to harbor
hopes for another precious moment of brightness and warmth even when Darkness
Reigns supreme. The hills and mountain ranges, that look blue in the morn,
would now appear armoured in His Healing Warmth.
Very few insects are perhaps more beautiful than the
butterflies. The wings with all their colourful patterns do cast a magical
spell on the eyes that see them. When the early-morning dews cling to them they
look colourfully decked in exquisite pearls, and who can then fail to look at
them admiringly? File size: 3.30mb